Defining family
by rhapsodybree
Summary: The events that challenged the very core of what it meant to be a family.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing, except my own creations.

* * *

John Thornton sat in his chair, eyes intent on the books before him. In his lap sat a little girl, Elizabeth Margaret Thornton – or Marley as she was known to her family – her face just as intent as she scribbled away on her own piece of paper.

When the post was deposited on the edge of his desk, he spared it minimal interest as he lined up his last line of numbers.

Shortly after, numbers adding up satisfactorily, he eased back. Wrapping an arm around his eldest daughter's stomach, he stood briefly, reached for the mail and sat once again.

Marley's interest in drawing waned as she turned attention to the letters he had received. As he put business correspondence to the side, he came across an envelope at which his daughter declared "F".

John Thornton pressed a kiss to the side of her head. "That's right sweetheart, it's from your Aunt Fanny."

He slit the letter open and saw it addressed to him.

Fanny didn't visit much, now that their mother had passed away and she'd insisted on moving further from the mills to a place not so dirty or sooty, swearing of the necessity for her delicate nature.

The death of Lydia Thornton had been sudden, a heart attack at the mills. There had been nothing to do but bury her nine months ago. His only regret was that she had not lived long enough to see the Thornton heir born, Hale born mere weeks after he sudden demise.

As much as he loved his three daughters – Marley joined by Frederica and Gwendolyn eighteen months later – he had been relived when his beloved wife had given birth to a son. There would be no more snide comments or smug looks from his spoilt sister over his lack of male heir when she had produced one so quickly, not long after he and Margaret had wed.

Reading the letter, he could see that Fanny had given birth to another son, to be christened Thornton Watson. The baby was on the larger size, but skipping to the last line, he read that all was well. She also expressed her annoyance that her husband had been detained on business and not home when she gave birth.

Throwing Marley up into his arms, smiling when she laughed gleefully, plaits swinging, he was determined to find his wife and apprise her of this new development.

Three days later, Fanny Watson was dead.

* * *

**Coming up: **The funeral.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own nothing, except my own creations.

* * *

The shock of Fanny Watson's sudden death was nothing compared to the shock after the funeral.

Standing there, looking down at the casket, his wife's hand firmly in the crook of his elbow, John Thornton had been in solemn contemplation as the pastor finished his sermon.

Moving into line, he shook Watson's hand and Margaret offered her own condolences.

As they stepped back, a woman who could only be Watson's sister appeared at the widow's arm, demanding his attention. "I am leaving this afternoon on the 4:10 train brother," she said imperiously. "Please ensure that your children are ready to leave by then."

Herman nodded his head as Margaret, unable to stay quiet, voiced her opinion in low tones to her husband. "Surely not?" she asked in horror. Her thoughts were with her niece and nephews – particularly Georgiana, a little girl who reminded her so much of herself. "He is sending his children away?"

"Perhaps he feels he is not up to the task of looking after them," Thornton replied, his own anger boiling beneath the surface.

"Is there anything we can do?"

He lifted his shoulder. "They are his children Margaret," he said softly. "He can do as he pleases."

* * *

Maynard Umbridge was a widower whose husband Captain Gregory Umbridge had died at sea, leaving her a fortune.

Childless, she had been overjoyed at her brother's request to take on the responsibility of raising her previously unseen nephews and niece: six year olds Herman Lawrence Jr and Georgiana Lousie, and the newborn Thornton.

Her romantic view of childrearing was quickly shattered.

Georgie Lou was much too independent and showed abominable disregard for expected behaviour. Her dear sister-in-law, may she rest in peace, had mentioned once or twice in a letter of hers that she had found her only daughter headstrong and difficult. Well, she would see about curbing that.

As for Thorne, why she had never expected babies to cry, need and want so much.

With the baby relegated to the nursery to be watched by some other poor soul and Georgie Lou under her strict guidance, Laurie was her only saving grace.

She bore it as long as she could, as any Christian could be asked to bear it, but when Georgie Lou had screamed at the top of her voice that she would _not_ sit and learn needlework, Maynard Umbridge had had enough.

Usually, sending the child away from the nursery without supper worked – the true punishment being the separation from her baby brother – but on this particular afternoon, she kicked and screamed and otherwise made an unreasonable fuss. At her wits' end, she sent for her brother.

The girl would have to go.

* * *

An annoyed Herman Watson arrived six days later. He stood in the lounge room as he listened to her sister's demands that he take his daughter away. "Send her to boarding school for all I care!" she cried. "For there is no hope for her here."

"Come child," said Herman, but Georgiana would not comply, running from her father's grasp for her precious baby brother.

When her tears made the four month old baby cry to, Maynard covered her ears as if in pain. "Why can't they not be like dear Laurie here," she moaned as she rested a hand on the golden haired boy beside her. "So well behaved." Herman Lawrence Junior – a facsimile of his mother in male form – preened.

Thorne's cries reached a higher pitch. "Take the baby too if you must," she declared impetuously. "It is more trouble than it is worth, I'm sure."

Herman sighed heavily, well put out. "Get the nurse ready. We will leave at once. So sorry to task your nerves sister."

Georgie – as she preferred to be called, not the Georgie Lou forced upon her by her paternal aunt – refused to let anyone but herself carry her baby brother as she was hustled out to the carriage later that afternoon.

She feared that to do so would result in him being taken away, and she might never see him again.

* * *

**Coming up: **The journey.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I own nothing, except my own creations.

* * *

As the carriage pulled up outside Beldon, Herman Watson made arrangements for lodgings and then left his two children in the care of the nurse as he departed to take care of business.

Filly requested food from the kitchen, placed it on the table when it arrived and encouraged her charges to eat. Both fed, she ushered them into bed. Georgie wrapped herself around her brother's small form as she shivered in fear in the dark room as Filly then left them.

Alone.

She was back the next morning, her eyes full of hope and starry dreams of a man she had met. She had all the appearance of a competent nurse as she bustled about preparing the children when Watson knocked on the door.

After six hours of travel, they arrived at Lower Cross and Watson alighted, gave sufficient funds to Filly for the journey and dispatched his daughter and son with orders. "You're for Milton," he declared, patting each on the head before he disappeared from sight, entering a new carriage.

With Filly beside her and Thorne safe in her arms, Georgie eyed their company as they left Beldon. A portly lady sat opposite her, an elderly man falling asleep with his chin on his chest beside to her.

The carriage made rocking motions, and it wasn't long before Georgie could resist and she slept.

An hour later, Filly left her sleeping charges and slipped from the carriage at Caversham.

Three hours later, Herman Watson's letter – like so many others destined for Milton – never arrived when the post boy's horse fell and broke his leg.

* * *

The portly woman, kind Miss Nellie, awoke Georgie as the carriage pulled to a stop. A hungry Thorne whimpered in her arms as Georgie looked around blearily, trying to gather her wits. It was dark outside, and there was no else in the carriage.

Where was Filly?

"Go find your master," Miss Nellie said as she urged her to stand and assisted her out of the carriage. She smiled and waved at them before shutting the door. A porter dropped a single bag beside her and jumped back up on the carriage.

"Move on."

Georgie clutched her brother closer to her as she looked up at the people moving around the busy station. They were all intent on purposes of their own, and she was ignored.

She knew she was at Milton, but her favourite uncle was nowhere to be found.

In the dark of the night, she fed her brother the stale bread from her pocket soaked in water and sank onto a bench outside the stationmaster's office.

Forgotten.

* * *

**Coming up: **Calling the magistrate.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I own nothing, except my own creations.

* * *

John Thornton sat at home in the lounge room.

He held in his hand Richard Hale's much loved Plato. Reading the pages by firelight, his other hand aimlessly ran up and down the back of his sleeping son, finally settled and resting on his chest.

He would not move him just yet.

The stillness was interrupted when the housekeeper dashed in. He looked up in concern at her distress. "There's a man to see you master." She spoke rapidly. "He's looking about what to do with two young children abandoned at the train station. Will you come? You being the magistrate and all?"

He rose from his chair instantly and handed Hale to Dixon. "Please advise Mrs Thornton that I have been called away and shall need her home as soon as possible."

Reaching for his coat and hat on the way, he went to the man waiting at his front door. They walked the short distance to the station together.

Walking onto the deserted platform, his eyes adjusted to the gloom and he saw one of the children the constable spoke of. Stepping closer, he was filled with dread.

"Georgie!" he cried in part surprise and part horror as he recognised them.

The exhausted six year old's head lifted at his voice and he saw she wasn't alone. His sister's youngest child was whimpering in her arms.

He moved swiftly, not apologising when he bumped past the stationmaster.

Kneeling before his niece, he dropped his hat to the ground beside them as he stretched his arms out. He immediately took the babe who, safe in this unknown man's arms, settled instantly.

He reached for Georgiana next, pulling her into his side with his other arm. The events of the past day and a half now catching up with her, Georgie burst into tears, sobbing into his shoulder. Thornton held her close, pressing a kiss to her crown when her sobs lessened and she was simply left emotionally wrought and tired.

He rose, both firmly in his grasp.

"I thank you for drawing this to my attention," he said formally to the small crowd now gathered. "This is my niece and nephew, and I will take charge of them now."

"Move on, move on," ordered the constable obediently. "Nothing to see here."

* * *

Margaret was standing in the hall, just returned from her meeting when he stepped inside. Her hand rose to cover her mouth as she realised just who her husband held in her arms.

He was ever thankful that he had married such a woman when she didn't say a word – just reached out for Thorne and led the way to the kitchen.

As he watched her coax them both to eat, he could feel the anger rising within him. He said nothing as he turned on his heel and left the room. Georgie did not need to see him like this.

Margaret joined him some time later.

"They are sleeping," she said softly as she stood in the doorway. "I put Georgie in with Marley and the baby with Hale."

Her husband stood at the window, looking unseeingly out into the dark. As she stepped into the room and approached him, she could see the tense way he was holding his shoulders. Placing a hand on his back, she felt the anger radiating off him.

She was angry herself, but words would not serve a purpose at the moment and so she slid her palm down and wrapped her arms around him, resting her cheek on her back as she offered what comfort she could.

They stood that way for several minutes as she sensed her husband struggling to get his temper under control. He reached some balance shortly after as he pressed one hand to hers and turned.

She stepped back as he spoke.

"It was clear that Watson wasn't up to parenting his own children," he began in a tight voice, "but I never would have thought he would stoop so low in his responsibilities for them to send them alone to Milton."

"Without even a note!" added Margaret, her own anger escaping. "Without a care!"

* * *

Up in the nursery, Georgie woke suddenly to the sound of loud voices downstairs. Unable to stifle her cries, she buried her face into the pillow for she knew she must be the cause. Consumed by her grief, she never sensed her bed partner leave, or saw the identical figures that followed her.

The three Thornton girls made their way downstairs to where they could hear their parents rowing. It was Marley who stepped into the room first, but the Frederica and Gwendolyn who drew attention them. "Stop shouting!" they cried in unison.

Marley eyed them solemnly. "You're making Georgie cry."

Margaret spared a glance with her husband before she immediately made for the door. Entering the nursery, she saw that Georgiana was indeed crying.

Seeing her aunt, she couldn't compose herself. "Don't send me back," she begged. "I'll be good I promise. I'll do needlework and everything."

"Oh you poor dear," said Margaret instantly, sitting on the bed and pulling the child into her lap. "You're not going anywhere."

Her eyes sought her husband's pain-filled ones in the doorway as she pressed a kiss to the distraught Georgie's head, rocking her backward and forward as their own children gathered around, offering what childish comfort they could.

Thornton knew he needed to make this right.

* * *

**Coming up: **Visiting Beldon.


End file.
